Page 65 of Hopelessly Teavoted
“It would be a very serious solution, but a soul-sealing ceremony is an option for us, to get around the curse. Not that we would have to. And not assuming you would want to.”
“Like what your parents did? The seal?”
“Yes,” he said, looking at her through the visor. “The soul seal.”
And because he wanted so much for what they were pretending to be real, he told her.
“If I’m honest, all pretending aside, I would turn to ash for you. I’d burn if you touch me. And, if you wanted to, though I have zero expectation that you do, I’d absolutely fix this by making it permanent between us. I’d seal my soul to yours, if you’d have me.”
“I’m not sure I completely understand the soul seal, or how it would fix the curse.” She looked up at him, a wrinkle between her eyebrows. “Can you explain it?”
“It’s permanent binding. Like my parents did. It’s a bit like tattooing your soul onto another person, but they’re marking the soul on yours too. The two branded together. Prissy thinks it’s a way to get around the curse. If my soul is tied to yours, then you can’t reap it.”
Her eyebrows raised. “Because you can’t reap your own soul, and if our souls were bound together, then I couldn’t. Oh…” She trailed off, chewing on her lip. It was a lot, but he was in it now, so he went on.
“I’d still rather break my own heart than tether you to do something you’re not sure you want. I would never chain you in that way. I would want you to be free, rather than with me, if that makes you happy.”
Vickie remained silent, but she pressed herself closer to him, as close as two people separated by old-fashioned cloth and a suit of armor could be.
The music rose and fell.
“Is it too much, Vickie?” He murmured the question. He wished he could brush her hair back from her forehead. Cradle her face in his hands.
She shook her head. “No,” she whispered. “It’s a lot, but it’s good to hear all our options, Az. And it means a lot to know how you feel. I’m thinking. Let’s just stay here for a moment. Don’t stop.”
That wassomething. A hope flared in his chest. He would never stop.
They turned in slow circles, over and over across the dance floor, until his feet grew sore from dancing in heavy metal and his heart grew sore from holding her but not really pressing against her skin.
When the house slowed the music to a low background noise, she sighed.
“I’ll think about what you’re asking me,” she said. Her voice sounded careful, but not, thank goddess, scared. “Can we sit down for a little?”
“Anything you want.” He meant it. His heart was on a platter. His whole self was laid bare for her to burn. Everything he owned, which was only half a haunted manor and a cranky yet affectionate cat.
“I’ve always loved those armchairs,” she said, and he snapped his fingers. The chairs slid close to them, one directly behind her.
“Are you going to change, or do you want me to do it for you?” Az was honest with himself enough to know that he was motivated not just by knightly chivalry, but also by a keen interest in seeing her in her underwear, however briefly, once more.
“Take off the dress for me. I know you want to. And I wouldn’t mind another glimpse of everything you’ve got going on under that suit of armor either.” She gestured toward him, and he magicked them out of dress and armor. They stood there, underwear and space between them, before he shut hiseyes and forced himself to snap his fingers and put them both back in their clothes.
She pulled her sweatpant-clad legs underneath her, settling into the velvet armchair, and he returned the armor to its rightful place in the corner.
He smiled, sinking into his chair.
“Azrael,” Vickie said breathily. “I know this complicates everything. But I’m going to think it over, the soul sealing and all the what-ifs. I have to admit that I might not be ready to brand our souls together in this moment, but I want to be honest. It’s not as scary as I thought hearing something like that would be. And I, I love all the little charming bits of you. The abs. The parental puns. The neurotic worrying. Everything about you is for me.”
Azrael took a few deep breaths and tried to remember his name—she had just said it—and wondered what he was doing here. Gave himself a moment to calm down, snapping his fingers to brush her hair gently, and then again to magic a stick of lip balm into her hand when she rubbed her lips together.
“Everything about you is for me, too, Vickie,” he said, his voice quiet. Solemn, like he was vowing it to her. Like it was a promise. “No matter what you decide you want. You can pretend or not.”
She smiled and looked at him, applying the ChapStick in an impossibly sexy glide that he would definitely think about later.
Among other things. So many other things. Some lavender, some pink.
“What would you do if you could do anything at all? Not for pretend, but if you could for real?”
“I’d kiss you,” he said, his voice coming out low and laced with longing.
